Journia
3rd Level Blue Feather
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2006
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We last left Cana in the clutches of the gargalectic Dante, and we last left Marie in Cana's dorm room at Georgetown University. Now we shall rejoin them.
Cana bent backward and hopped forward by pure accident. Dante wrapped his hand around the small of her back and scrabbled his fingers over her bare lower tummy with the delicacy of an angelic feather duster. It was driving Cana wild with laughter.
“Yes, Indian women are some of the more beautiful in my experience.” Dante said as he focused on Cana’s twitching navel. “I like the variety they have. Certainly there is just as much variety in Africa, but India has one of those special places in my heart. Have you ever seen a Hijra?
“I once held a hijra captive also. Many of the hijras are quite attractive, especially the tall, ones that look like models. I will say my dear, that he was far far more ticklish than you are.”
“Then…why do you continue to tickle me?”
“Because my little lotus blossom,” Dante said with a smile, “I have all the confidence in the world in you.” He kissed her cheek and slid his hand along her back, and then stopped. “You are wearing a thong aren’t you?” without waiting for an answer, Dante turned Cana around and looked at her jeans, he could see her lingerie. “You are!”
“Don’t strip me please!”
“Oh my dear why would I want to strip you?” Dante asked. He reached under both buttocks and began gliding his fingers over the sliky fabric of her jeans. Cana screamed, more out of desperation than the tickling, and fell into another wave of laughter.
“Ah,” Dante said, “our little visitor has a very ticklish set of buns.” He tickled faster, listening to Cana’s screams of desperate laughter grow in multitude and watching her small buttocks jiggle with every flick of his dexterous fingers. “I’ve heard you have a nickname, clownfish I believe it is. I think Honey Buns is a much better title don’t you think?” Cana did in fact think that Honey Buns was a better nickname than clownfish. But she was laughing too much to confirm it.
She lifted her legs to curl into a ball, and inadvertently made it much easier to get at all of her rear. Dante’s nails glided over her buttocks and skated along her inner thighs and danced back down to her butt.
Keeping her in that position, Dante put his right arm under her knees to keep her from putting her legs down. The restraint made it much more ticklish for Cana because she knew she couldn’t escape. She felt the nimble fingers dancing on her very ticklish bum and couldn’t do a thing about it. Were it her boyfriend doing this, she would have felt great about it. And she would have enjoyed exponentially more than she did now. Her pleasure of being tickled was gone the moment she felt that smack on her butt by the individual who called her Clownfish.
Cana knew this wasn’t over, she only hoped that she wouldn’t die. She didn’t want to be one of those Jane Doe’s that’s found on the side of a road or floating in a river naked, or worse, with their skin removed. The thought terrified her, and destroyed any pleasure she might have gotten from Dante’s titillating journey along her rear.
Marie was trapped in the police car, between two policemen in the back seat, and her legs sticking through the front screen, as it rolled down the highway. The two officers on her sides tickled the little Indian student on her sides and her firm tummy. Marie had slid to the floor of the back seat and was laughing up a storm. The two officers were taking great delight in torturing the twenty-year old Law Student. The car came to a stop by the side of the road, and Marie felt her sneakers being removed. Her Nylon feet were cooling in the air for only a moment when the driver’s fingers made landfall on her soles.
Marie’s teeth clenched and her eyes slammed shut as she tried to pull her feet back to her. They were bound in the barrier, making it difficult to pull the feet more than two inches in any direction.
“Look at her,” the officer on her right said, “She’s just squealing like a little piglet!” He was a heavily built man with copper coloured skin and dark spiky hair. His eyes were shaded by dark police issued sunglasses and his smile, a truly sadistic one, was filled with perfectly lined, perfectly white teeth. The officer’s partner concurred as he wormed his right hand up into Marie’s left armpit.
Marie couldn’t believe this was happening. She was standing with the officer in Cana’s dorm room when the officer got a call on his walkie-talkie and he was informed that they may have found Cana, alive. The news was both exciting and frightening at once.
“May I come to see if this is indeed Cana?”
“With all due respect Miss Aljahripur,” the officer said as he removed his hat to wipe his forehead, “you’ve got classes to go to.”
“No I don’t,” the young woman said. “My classes are on Monday’s and Wednesdays. This is Tuesday.”
“Ah, well then I suppose you can come with my men and I.”
“We should notify Dan,”
“Her boyfriend?”
“Yeah,”
“He’s in a car on his way to the site already. He’ll be waiting for us when we arrive there.” The officer confirmed that he was on his way with a friend of the missing person, and he made his way down the stairway followed by the anxious Marie. They made their way out of the dormitory and out to a patrol car.
Two officers in black uniforms smiled and greeted her as they approached. She goti n the car and within two minutes was off down Reservoir Road and off into Maryland.
“So,” said the officer on her right, his name was Finch, “what do you study at georgetown?”
“I study accounting.” Marie said. She kept looking straight forward. Watching the road pass from in front of her to the space she couldn't see, under her. As she did this, a car came speeding down the road and nearly hit the squad car. Had it not been for the driver noticing it and swerving hard to the right, they all would have been smashed like small sardines.
The two officers fell hard on Marie from both sides, and Marie had the breath knocked out of her momentarily by the pressure of the two heavily armored men on each side of her.
“God damn Mike,” the officer on her right shouted. “Watch out for the people in the back aight?”
“It isn't my fault Lou,” the driver said, “some numbnut in the car back there nearly hit us.”
“It's true, I saw it.” Marie said. And just after she spoke, the tire busted. “Oh Hell...”
And then the officers on her sides just started tickling her. She had no idea what brought it on, but all she did know was that it gave her a major dose of the giggles. She lurched to one side, then the other, and then fell back in her space, with the wiggling fingers digging in her belly, and she tossed her head back and cackled.
Cana lay on her belly on the floor of the dark room, Dante straddling her bucking body, his right hand planted firmly on her belly, and his left hand planted firmly in the middle of her upper back. Her laughter echoed through the basement rooms and the banging on the floor of her now booted feet mixed with the laughter, like a haunting melody that played through Dante's maind as his fingers waltzed along her midsection.
“Tell me Cana,” Dante whispered as he leaned close to the bucking college student, “how ticklish are you?”
“GAAAHAHAHAAA!!!” She whined. “You're evil! To EVIHAHAHAHAA!!!” Dante's fingers dug into her belly again and Cana bucked up and down on the floor, and Dante sat there, riding her like a jockey. His red eyes completing a ghastly maniacal expression of lust. His lips curled tightly against his white bared teeth, his long serpentine tongue licking his thin lips ever so often, and his nostrils flaring to bring in more air, to cool his blood, to keep him in his moment.
Coochie Coochie
Pt. 2
M.C. Laphar
Pt. 2
M.C. Laphar
Cana bent backward and hopped forward by pure accident. Dante wrapped his hand around the small of her back and scrabbled his fingers over her bare lower tummy with the delicacy of an angelic feather duster. It was driving Cana wild with laughter.
“Yes, Indian women are some of the more beautiful in my experience.” Dante said as he focused on Cana’s twitching navel. “I like the variety they have. Certainly there is just as much variety in Africa, but India has one of those special places in my heart. Have you ever seen a Hijra?
“I once held a hijra captive also. Many of the hijras are quite attractive, especially the tall, ones that look like models. I will say my dear, that he was far far more ticklish than you are.”
“Then…why do you continue to tickle me?”
“Because my little lotus blossom,” Dante said with a smile, “I have all the confidence in the world in you.” He kissed her cheek and slid his hand along her back, and then stopped. “You are wearing a thong aren’t you?” without waiting for an answer, Dante turned Cana around and looked at her jeans, he could see her lingerie. “You are!”
“Don’t strip me please!”
“Oh my dear why would I want to strip you?” Dante asked. He reached under both buttocks and began gliding his fingers over the sliky fabric of her jeans. Cana screamed, more out of desperation than the tickling, and fell into another wave of laughter.
“Ah,” Dante said, “our little visitor has a very ticklish set of buns.” He tickled faster, listening to Cana’s screams of desperate laughter grow in multitude and watching her small buttocks jiggle with every flick of his dexterous fingers. “I’ve heard you have a nickname, clownfish I believe it is. I think Honey Buns is a much better title don’t you think?” Cana did in fact think that Honey Buns was a better nickname than clownfish. But she was laughing too much to confirm it.
She lifted her legs to curl into a ball, and inadvertently made it much easier to get at all of her rear. Dante’s nails glided over her buttocks and skated along her inner thighs and danced back down to her butt.
Keeping her in that position, Dante put his right arm under her knees to keep her from putting her legs down. The restraint made it much more ticklish for Cana because she knew she couldn’t escape. She felt the nimble fingers dancing on her very ticklish bum and couldn’t do a thing about it. Were it her boyfriend doing this, she would have felt great about it. And she would have enjoyed exponentially more than she did now. Her pleasure of being tickled was gone the moment she felt that smack on her butt by the individual who called her Clownfish.
Cana knew this wasn’t over, she only hoped that she wouldn’t die. She didn’t want to be one of those Jane Doe’s that’s found on the side of a road or floating in a river naked, or worse, with their skin removed. The thought terrified her, and destroyed any pleasure she might have gotten from Dante’s titillating journey along her rear.
Marie was trapped in the police car, between two policemen in the back seat, and her legs sticking through the front screen, as it rolled down the highway. The two officers on her sides tickled the little Indian student on her sides and her firm tummy. Marie had slid to the floor of the back seat and was laughing up a storm. The two officers were taking great delight in torturing the twenty-year old Law Student. The car came to a stop by the side of the road, and Marie felt her sneakers being removed. Her Nylon feet were cooling in the air for only a moment when the driver’s fingers made landfall on her soles.
Marie’s teeth clenched and her eyes slammed shut as she tried to pull her feet back to her. They were bound in the barrier, making it difficult to pull the feet more than two inches in any direction.
“Look at her,” the officer on her right said, “She’s just squealing like a little piglet!” He was a heavily built man with copper coloured skin and dark spiky hair. His eyes were shaded by dark police issued sunglasses and his smile, a truly sadistic one, was filled with perfectly lined, perfectly white teeth. The officer’s partner concurred as he wormed his right hand up into Marie’s left armpit.
Marie couldn’t believe this was happening. She was standing with the officer in Cana’s dorm room when the officer got a call on his walkie-talkie and he was informed that they may have found Cana, alive. The news was both exciting and frightening at once.
“May I come to see if this is indeed Cana?”
“With all due respect Miss Aljahripur,” the officer said as he removed his hat to wipe his forehead, “you’ve got classes to go to.”
“No I don’t,” the young woman said. “My classes are on Monday’s and Wednesdays. This is Tuesday.”
“Ah, well then I suppose you can come with my men and I.”
“We should notify Dan,”
“Her boyfriend?”
“Yeah,”
“He’s in a car on his way to the site already. He’ll be waiting for us when we arrive there.” The officer confirmed that he was on his way with a friend of the missing person, and he made his way down the stairway followed by the anxious Marie. They made their way out of the dormitory and out to a patrol car.
Two officers in black uniforms smiled and greeted her as they approached. She goti n the car and within two minutes was off down Reservoir Road and off into Maryland.
“So,” said the officer on her right, his name was Finch, “what do you study at georgetown?”
“I study accounting.” Marie said. She kept looking straight forward. Watching the road pass from in front of her to the space she couldn't see, under her. As she did this, a car came speeding down the road and nearly hit the squad car. Had it not been for the driver noticing it and swerving hard to the right, they all would have been smashed like small sardines.
The two officers fell hard on Marie from both sides, and Marie had the breath knocked out of her momentarily by the pressure of the two heavily armored men on each side of her.
“God damn Mike,” the officer on her right shouted. “Watch out for the people in the back aight?”
“It isn't my fault Lou,” the driver said, “some numbnut in the car back there nearly hit us.”
“It's true, I saw it.” Marie said. And just after she spoke, the tire busted. “Oh Hell...”
And then the officers on her sides just started tickling her. She had no idea what brought it on, but all she did know was that it gave her a major dose of the giggles. She lurched to one side, then the other, and then fell back in her space, with the wiggling fingers digging in her belly, and she tossed her head back and cackled.
Cana lay on her belly on the floor of the dark room, Dante straddling her bucking body, his right hand planted firmly on her belly, and his left hand planted firmly in the middle of her upper back. Her laughter echoed through the basement rooms and the banging on the floor of her now booted feet mixed with the laughter, like a haunting melody that played through Dante's maind as his fingers waltzed along her midsection.
“Tell me Cana,” Dante whispered as he leaned close to the bucking college student, “how ticklish are you?”
“GAAAHAHAHAAA!!!” She whined. “You're evil! To EVIHAHAHAHAA!!!” Dante's fingers dug into her belly again and Cana bucked up and down on the floor, and Dante sat there, riding her like a jockey. His red eyes completing a ghastly maniacal expression of lust. His lips curled tightly against his white bared teeth, his long serpentine tongue licking his thin lips ever so often, and his nostrils flaring to bring in more air, to cool his blood, to keep him in his moment.
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